Resident Evil: The Turks Mission
by DemonDoor
Summary: When a shadowy underground organization is asked to travel to Racoon city to take care of a few problems causing Umbrella, they have no idea what kind of world of horror they are about to step into....Featuring fellow authors OCs, as well as a couple of m
1. Chapter 1

AN: This fic is a Resident Evil/ Final Fantasy 7 crossover, involving the Turks. This was inspired by HHOD and Desertcross4 from there brilliant Resident Evil novels.

Obligatory Disclaimer: Don't own Resident Evil characters or settings. Or Final Fantasy 7 characters either. I only own David Gilligan and Jane Scott.

This is written for HHOD, my inspiration.

Resident Evil: The Turks mission

Chapter 1: The prep talk

Date: 15/9/98. Time: 16:10

Sun shone through the city of New York, illuminating the buildings and casting shadows over the streets. The bustling metropolis was at its peak, the traffic weaving its way throughout the enormous roads, and people rushing towards there destinations. During the frantic morning rush, a man gets into a heated argument with a hot dog stand owner over the amount of onions on his hot dog and knocks the vendor over. Amidst the chaos, a dog runs off with a string of dogs, frustrating the owner even more, and he runs after it, yelling at the dog in Spanish. When he was clean out of sight, the man picks up another hotdog from inside the overturned vendor, and walks off, two hot dogs in hand. Despite the little mishap, the city seems to be running normally.

Among the citizens walking down the sidewalk (and there were hundreds) a man who looked like he was in his mid 30s was walking against them. He was dressed in a pristine purple jacket, which covered a lazily buttoned white shirt. This was tucked into a further purple pair of trousers, to which a holster was attached, containing a single silver gun. He wore black boots, which pointed up at the toe, and had a red rag covering the bottom part of his face. His blood red eyes, a feature that was striking among his pale face, noticed an avenue and he walked down it. It lead to a four-story massive building that looked abandoned. Its white paint had turned grey over time, the windows were broken, and the door was old and rusted, and covered with cobwebs. Surely, to the passing eye, this would just be another run down building that would contain nothing more than rats, dust, and maybe the odd homeless person or stray dog.

How wrong they would be.

The man walked towards the door, his boots causing echoes that reverberated across the walls of the alley. Before he reached the door, however, he was approached by a gang of three teenagers, equipped with knives. One of them was a gangly looking guy, with blue eyes and brown hair, and he was wearing a Led Zeppelin t-shirt and faded and ripped denim jeans, and black converse. The other was a fatter one, who had brown eyes and greasy blonde hair, with his fringe falling over his eyes. He wore a black shirt, that was clearly stretched over his enormous size, causing rips amongst the joints, and black cords were tight around his short, fat legs. The last one wore a black t-shirt and a leather jacket. He wore jeans and looked a bit muscular. He had his hair as a blonde mowhawk.

The man was not shaken by these thugs; instead he brushed away a strand of jet black hair out of his eyes and asked,

"May I help you three circus freaks?"

The mohawk was angered by this.

"Yeah, you can give us all ya money, and we wont kill yo ass!" he demanded, readying his knife.

"Do yourselves a favour and leave, before you get hurt," the man replied trying to move around the gang. The fat one blocked him and looked to the mohawk one. Clearly THAT one was the leader.

"You want me to take care of him, boss?" the fat one asked.

"Yeah. Teach him a lesson Joey." The mohawk one laughed.

"You guys asked for it." The man sighed and rushed at the fat one. He landed his fist right into his gut. Fatty doubled back and collapsed in a heap, unconscious.

The Mohawk one suddenly grew a lot more angry. "Tony, take him out!" he yelled

"Sure thing boss!" the gangly one replied, and lunged at the man with his knife. The man grabbed his arm and jerked it upwards. He then brought his free arm down and hit the gangly ones arm hard. The sound of a crack indicated that he had broken it, and the thug let out a scream of pain and fell to the floor, clutching his arm in agony. The man then stepped forward and shot his fist at the mohawk thugs face, breaking his nose and sending him flying into the trashcans. He walked over towards him, and stooped down to meet him face to face.

"Never mess with a Turk." The man warned and walked onward to the building.

He knocked on the door and awaited a response.

"Password." Was the low grumble that came from the other side of the door.

"Quicksilver." The man replied monotonously, and the door slid open.

The inside of the building looked strikingly different from that of the outside. The walls were white and seemed to glow, causing the mans eyes to hurt. There were a lot of turn-offs leading to different rooms, but there hardly seemed to be anyone else there, apart from a few new guys wearing the same uniform as the mans. He walked straight ahead to the silver doors of the elevator and pressed the button, causing the doors to open. He stepped inside and heard the doors close behind him. He fingered the "Basement: 5th floor" button and pressed it.

The music started to play.

"_That's the last thing I need right now." _He thought to himself. He pulled out his gun, aimed it at the speaker, and fired. The speaker exploded, and fizzed a bit, then silence.  
"Thank God." He said aloud and waited patiently for the elevator to reach its destination.

The doors opened with a ping, and the man stepped out. He walked forward towards the double doors in front of him and waited for the guard's approval before walking in.

The room was huge. It had metallic paint over the walls, and huge drapes of purple strung across the pillars, which were made of black marble. There was a huge white table in front of him with chairs all along the side of it. The floor was solid granite, and littered with the Turks logo, which was a purple flame.

The Turks. The organization that this man worked for. It was an underground team of elites that specialized in kidnapping, murder and extortion. A freelance team, The Turks were effectively a "Professional hire" organization that only the most wealthy, and most of the time, most corrupt businesses could afford.

"You're late, Vincent!" a voice rang from the end of the table

At the end of the table were several people wearing the same uniform as him, and one who wasn't. The first one on the left was Reno. His jacket was slung over the back of his chair, and his top button of his shirt had been undone, and was not tucked in to his purple trousers. He had spiked up red hair and dark brown eyes, and he had a stone cut face. Across his chest was a black scabbard, which held his infamous weapon, the electro-mag rod, and he also had a small holster, to which a standard 9mm was placed in. He was carrying two hot dogs, eating them both at the same time. In Vincent's eyes, Reno was an arrogant little fuck, who had nothing better to do then to crack jokes about him all day, and that pissed him off. He was a womaniser too, and that pissed him off even more He remembered once when they were on a mission to retrieve a certain individual from the U.N, and Reno had blown it by flirting with the ambassador of Thailand, and they were forced to evacuate immediately before they were captured by the security. In short, Reno hated Vincent, and Vincent hated Reno.

Opposite Reno was Rude. Rude was a quiet, sullen man, who was bald, apart from the shaven stubble left on his head. He was dressed very much like the professional Turk should dress, with his shirt buttoned fully, and tucked into his trousers and his jacket on tight. He was tall and very muscular, and was a master of several martial arts. He was never seen without his shades on, and he hardly ever said a word to anyone apart from his partner, Reno. To Vincent, Rude was alright, as he often acted like the professional. He could take out a man with a knife from over 100 yards (a statistic that he took pride in) and could kill someone in 38 different ways with his legs and arms. He was, put bluntly, the ideal Turk. He carried a Sawn-Off Shotgun in a huge holster that seemed to fit perfectly within his jacket.

Just further on form Rude was the only top female Turk, Elena, thought how she got there was beyond Vincent. She was clumsy, she always rushed into danger, and she was always fawning over Tseng. She had short blonde hair and blue eyes, and was dressed much like Rude, except she had a long purple tie draped round her neck. The only thing she was good for was the fact that she was an expert in explosives, and was also a brilliant shooter. Not as good as Vincent, of course, as he was the marksman of the team, but good all the same. Her preferred weapon was a 44. Calibre Magnum and she had it with her at all times.

Then, of course was there newest recruit, sitting next to Elena. His name was David Gilligan. An Ex-Marine at just 25, he was a talented soldier and a loyal companion to have on the team. He is an expert with weapons, and uses his own, customized Desert Eagle, he named_ "The Prometheus" _According to his boasting, this gun can shoot through two slabs of marble, and that bullet could still travel on to kill someone, landing at any point. Because of his ability to customize and upgrade weapons, and also being an amazing healer, The Turks chose him. His suit was immaculate, his blonde hair was gelled upright, not a strand out of place, and his grey eyes were stern and fixed on Vincent as he approached the chair.

And finally, at the head of the table, there was the leader of the Turks, Tseng. He was the ideal soldier, with a calm attitude to all situations, and a good head on his shoulders. He was an expert with computers, and was also a master of all martial arts. He could shoot as well as Vincent, disarm a bomb, and take out several enemies at once if he chose to. He was a tall, lean figure, with long brown hair and dark green eyes. He was the best aspects of each of the team personified, but he was mostly in charge of operations now, staying behind the scenes. Even behind the scenes, however, he carried a silenced 9mm. His was the mouth the statement rang from.

"So sue me." Vincent replied calmly. He looked over at the man sitting next to him. He wore a black suit, and had short blonde hair. "Who's the suit?" Vincent asked.

The man was ruffled by this statement, but regained his composure and extended his hand.

"George Remington. Head of Bacterial Labs of Umbrella Inc. A pleasure to meet you, mister…?"

"Valentine." Vincent replied. "Vincent Valentine. You said Umbrella? They're a pharmaceutical company aren't they? What do they want with us?" Vincent asked, somewhat perplexed.

"If you take a seat, I would be happy to explain!" the man replied, smiling. Well, at least his mouth was smiling. His eyes weren't.

Vincent chose the seat next to Rude and sat down.

"Alright, now that you're all here, I'll explain why we have come to ask for your services. If we could just get the lights…." He looked over at Tseng, who merely shrugged and clapped his hands. The lights went out instantly. Reno looked over at Rude and smirked.

"Okay." The man continued "This is the town of Racoon City." He shouted, a projection of a map coming up on the wall. They all turned to face it, and saw a detailed map of a small town situated in the middle of a ring of mountains. Alongside the inside of the ring of mountains was a large forest, with many trails leading from the town to the mountains.

"And this," the man continued "is the Spencer Mansion."

He pointed to a ringed area around a certain point in the forested area. It was a clearing with a large building situated in the middle of it.

"_Mansion?"_ David thought to himself _"That's a fuckin' palace."_

"Truth be told." The man continued uneasily "Umbrella is also the developer of biological weapons. Our experiments soon caused a mass outbreak among our staff, causing them to turn into hideous monsters, due to a thing called the T-Virus. This virus, put simply, raised the dead. We wanted to use this virus to make soldiers literally invincible. We all thought it was good news, until we found out that the only thing the creatures felt was the uncontrollable urge to feed. Soon they escaped, and the whole staff was consumed." The whole room fell silent. Elena was the first to speak.

"So you're saying it turned them into zombies?" she asked in disbelief.

The man nodded.

"In a manner of speaking, yes."

The room fell silent again.

"Whoa" gasped Reno, finishing his hot dog.

"Indeed." The man said "Eventually, the place was bombed to hell by S.T.A.R.S operatives, and the case was closed. Now here's where you come in."

They all perked up, and listened intently to the next words that the man was saying.

"As I just said, S.T.A.R.S operatives bombed the place, and they have more then enough evidence on us to put us out of business for good. We CANNOT allow that to happen. At the moment, they have only tried to convince the citizens of Racoon about us. We aren't particularly worried about that, but we need you to stop them before they leave. We need you to go undercover in the RPD and destroy all evidence of there ever being an outbreak. Then, we need you to take out S.T.AR.S operatives Jill Valentine, Chris Redfield, Brad Vickers and Barry Burton."

"That's a lot of people." Reno said breezily. "Don't know if I can kill 'em without the proper….motivation." he concluded with a sly smile.

"We know your demands, We are willing to pay you each $50,000 dollars each."

"Nice." Reno replied

"Yeah think about how many hookers you could buy with that, Reno." Vincent laughed.

"Fuck you, Dracula!" was the retort that came from Reno.

"Hey, you wanna make something of this, faggot?" Vincent threatened.

Rude sighed into his hands, while Elena rolled her eyes. David however, found this little charade very amusing.

"Calm down you two." Tseng shouted. "Well what do you think team?"

Elena was the first to respond.

"Yes sir, I'm in!" she exclaimed excitedly.

"…Me too." Rude muttered.

"Yeah, I guess." Reno said, seeming like he didn't care.

"Yeah." Vincent replied

"Yes." Was the monotonous response from David.

"Alright then, it's settled." Tseng said. "Team, strap up, we move out tomorrow."

This was the start of their nightmare……


	2. Chapter 2: Wakey Wakey Sunshine

Thanks for the reviews, they helped a lot.

Disclaimer: No own Capcom blah blah blah

Amber Bernstein is a character made by Hyperactive Hamster Of Doom.

Chapter 2: Wakey wakey sunshine.

Date: 16/9/98 Time 09:47

Raccoon City. A city that screamed originality. Although somewhat small in size, it had technologically advanced hospitals, schools that provided an excellent education, high-paying jobs and exquisite housing. People here were good folk, the kind that would say hi to you on the street, or ask you how your day was. Various beautiful monuments littered the town, including a vast, hugely detailed park, and an enormous, beautifully decorated clock tower. And it was not just the city that invited people to live in Raccoon. Surrounding the city was a huge forest, with all types of trees scattered across the area. Encircling the forest, and the city, was the Arklay mountain range. During the summertime, hikers would often visit Raccoon to climb it, bringing more money into the city. Both economically and aesthetically, this was a utopian paradise.

All except one single part of the city.

The downtown area.

This was a run-down and shoddy part of Raccoon, besmirching its otherwise glorious image. Crack dens, pornography stores, strip clubs and shoddy apartment buildings were about the only structures in the district. Gang wars, drug crimes and murders were a part of every day life. The mayor of Raccoon City had given up on downtown a long time ago, focusing on improving the uptown area to compensate for it, and soon it declined into a cesspool of drugs, blood and more drugs.

It was here that the incidents had started.

It was also the place where a Miss Jane Scott lived.

In apartment 6 of 267 Sandhill Street, she was struggling to get out of bed. Her head was thumping from working the night before. She'd had to arrest a crazy bastard for one count of GBH, trying to batter a man to death with a pole. He had almost knocked her unconscious too, smacking her on the side of the head with it. She had managed to cuff him before he could cause any more damage, though, and now he was sitting pretty in an R.P.D prison cell.

Yep, that's right. Little Miss Jane was actually Officer Jane Scott of the Raccoon Police Department. She was among the best female officers in the force, equalling fellow officer and close friend Amber Bernstein. She was a very attractive lady as well, her long brown hair harmonising with her tanned complexion. She never accepted dates though; the other male officers were a bit dim-witted, according to her. She always considered herself to be a detached person from the force, her only friend being Amber. This was mainly due to her violent attitude towards people who disrespected her or her friends, often beating them to a pulp.

Despite this quality, however, Jane was the ideal cop. She was intelligent, quick to react, extremely quick-witted and a logical person. Her amazing detective skills were known across the department, solving nearly every case that was given to her.

All except the one that had been haunting her for many weeks now.

The cannibal murders spree.

The grisly murders had started a couple months back, specifically on the 20th of July. They had started around the outskirts of Raccoon City, happening in the small lodges and cabins just inside the Arklay Mountains. Horrible incidents of people being eaten alive by groups of about a dozen people. Muscles, skin, flesh, all was eaten, until only bones were left.

And there weren't just cannibals that terrorised the outskirts of Raccoon. There were claims that people were bitten and then feasted on by a pack of what appeared to be dogs. Except these dogs were killers. And they were quicker than your average Labrador.

Then S.T.A.R.S went in to investigate - and that's when things had started to get really terrifying.

The R.P.D's S.T.A.R.S (Special Tactics And Rescue Squad) unit consisted of the most elite members of the R.P.D, with some of them coming from the most powerful forces in the country; the Delta Force, the U.S Air force and the S.W.A.T team. It was divided into two separate squadrons: the less experienced Bravo Team, who usually did a recon check of an area before sending in the Alpha Team, the more experienced team, to finish the job. Out of the 12 S.T.A.R.S members that went into the forests surrounding Raccoon, only 5 made it back. According to the remaining S.T.A.R.S members, all the others were dead, having been killed by what they'd claimed to have been zombies. They'd gone on further to say that the zombies had been created due to a virus leak that had been caused by the International Pharmaceutical Enterprise, Umbrella.

And there weren't just zombies in the mansion, they'd carried on. There were abominable creatures that defied nature, including a poor girl, twisted and mutated so much that there was no human left, and a huge, massively strong monster they named the Tyrant, that they had only just managed to defeat.

And, most shocking of all, they had told the officers that the S.T.A.R.S members had been betrayed by Albert Wesker, the captain of the Alpha team. Thanks to him, they had nearly been destroyed from the inside out. In short, the remaining team members despised Umbrella, and had urged citizens to leave the city before the worst possible danger could hit the city.

Umbrella pretty much ran Raccoon City. It was because of them that Raccoon was such a technologically advanced city, even though it was a quaint little town. It donated massive amounts of money to the city, and controlled****almost all the businesses. The citizens of Raccoon thought that they were just advertising on their property for monetary gain, and didn't think that they were anything more than a friendly company attempting to lend a hand to a little mountain town, and so they were angry with the S.T.A.R.S members for accusing their generous benefactors of having committed such heinous acts against the town.

Soon after they had returned, their fellow officers became convinced that they had been driven insane by being out in the woods for so long on their own. There was also a lot of blue herb pollen up in the area, which was primarily used as a medicinal serum to cure poison, but it was also smoked by people looking for a free high. It caused symptoms such as paranoia, hallucinations and a deep sense of suspicion and mistrust. They'd mocked the S.T.A.R.S members behind their backs, and after a while, the S.T.A.R.S members had left the R.P.D, disappearing without a trace.

By not believing them, the citizens of Raccoon had made their biggest mistake.

But at this moment in time, Jane's thoughts weren't on Umbrella or S.T.A.R.S or even the R.P.D. Her main mission was to gather the strength to actually get out of her bed.

She struggled out of the greyish sheets and fell off her mattress, landing on an ashtray that she had left there a week ago. Cigarette butts and ash were all over her hair, and spilled onto the already slightly dirtied carpet. She swore under her breath and heaved herself up. She stood for a moment to get her bearings, slowly shuffled her way to the window and opened the curtains, letting sunshine spill into the room.

She looked out the window and took in the view. It wasn't much of a view, though; all she could see from her window was a brick wall and a giant billboard advertising Umbrella's latest miracle cure. Looking down at the street below, she could see a couple of dumpsters and a stack of empty beer crates sitting outside the back door of the all-night Chinese takeaway, and some overturned trash cans further down the street. There had been some empty cardboard boxes next to the trash cans yesterday, but these had been pilfered and were probably now being used as free housing for downtown Raccoon City's hobo population. Judging by the amount of garbage that was spilling out onto the sidewalk, the trash cans had been the all-you-can-eat buffet.

After looking out of the window, she staggered through the small, miserably-coloured bedroom towards the bathroom to start getting ready for work.

She stepped into the cream-coloured shower and turned the taps on, the water cascading down onto her body. She massaged the side of her head, the pain now unbearable.

"_Oh well."_ She thought to herself. _"Cost of the job." _The pain gradually subsided, but there was still a nagging sensation whenever she touched it.

After getting thoroughly washed and drying herself down, she walked out of the bathroom and walked across towards her solid oak wardrobe. She opened the doors and removed her work clothes.

It consisted of a navy blue shirt, which had the initials R.P.D large and white across the chest, and a matching pair of navy blue trousers. The badge, a gold star on her chest pocket, had the identification number "5151" engraved onto it. This was the standard issue uniform of a member of the R.P.D. She walked out of her room and staggered over to the kitchen. She put on some coffee and switched on the TV, flicking over to the sports programme, checking to see if the results of the Ice Hockey match ups were up yet.

An enormous man was sitting on a leather chair behind a white desk. He had a huge smile on his face and was shuffling some papers in his hands.

"_And now,"_ a voice rang out, _"The sports news with Gary Connolly. The headlines today."_

The man started to speak now.

"_The Raccoon Wildcats face off against the Danderville Devils in the first match of the sea--"_

The sports review was suddenly cut off. The image of a man and a woman replaced it.

"_We interrupt the sports review for an important news bulletin."_ The man exclaimed. He had a terrified look on his face.

"_The bodies of 60 year old Mr Frank Whitehouse and 59 year old Mrs Angela Whitehouse were found dead on their homes early this morning."_

Jane perked up slightly.

"_The details confirm that the bodies appeared to have bite marks over their bodies. We can therefore assume that this couple were victim to yet again, the cannibal murderers. This brings the body count to 20"_

Jane bolted upright, nearly spilling her coffee. More victims….?

"_There were no witnesses at the scene, but the murderers appeared to break in through the garden window. Chief of police, Brian Irons, had this to say."_

"_**The situation is under control. The R.P.D assures citizens that there is no cause for alarm. The case has just had a major breakthrough, and will be clear within the week. We advise citizens however, to stay indoors and keep all entrances and windows secure."**_

"_Thank you Chief. Now back to the spor--"_

Jane switched the TV off and mulled over what she had just seen. 20 deaths in a matter of weeks, no leads or clues. Irons was talking shit; they'd had no breakthrough. Telling the civvies lies wasn't going to help her sleep at night, because it could actually encourage them to go out at night while danger was still very much present in Raccoon City. However, despite the fact that Jane had a problem with the way Irons did things, she didn't dare to question him. He had a lot of power, constantly getting extra money from Umbrella by forcing his officers to go "lenient" on the company's employees. Or so everyone thought. However, the entire force knew that he was a pompous, twisted, bribe-taking bastard, and they couldn't do a damn thing about it.

She walked over to her bedroom and opened her bedside table. She grabbed the bottle of aspirin, popped the lid and fumbled two of the pills into her hand. She swallowed them quickly, and cringed as they scraped the back of her throat on their way down. She shuddered as they finally arrived at her stomach. She then reached under her pillow to remove the pistol placed there. She holstered the weapon and walked out the front door, starting her day at work.


End file.
